Chapter 6 Wolves Circle

The whiskey glass shook in Zuri’s hands, the liquid inside trembling as bad as her fingers. The fire still raged outside, sirens drawing closer, red lights flickering against the bar windows.

Nobody was laughing anymore.

The brothers muttered in low voices, eyes cutting her way like knives. The women didn’t bother whispering—their smirks and narrowed eyes told her exactly what they thought.

She didn’t belong here. She was trouble.

And now the whole damn club knew it.

A heavy chair scraped against the floor. One of the older bikers, a scar running down his cheek, stood and pointed at her.

“She’s the reason Spade’s got smoke in the sky tonight.” His voice was gravel, rough and angry. “I say we cut her loose before she drags more heat on us.”

The room buzzed in agreement.

Zuri’s throat tightened. She wanted to shout back, to defend herself, but her voice felt locked away, trapped by the weight of too many stares.

Before she could try, Amani spoke.

“She’s under me.”

His words dropped like a hammer. The room went still.

Amani’s dark gaze swept the brothers, daring any of them to challenge him. “Anybody got a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”

Silence stretched.

Then another brother, a tall man with a shaved head and ink down both arms, stepped forward. “You’re the Enforcer. You keep the wolves in line, not bring strays into the den. If she’s under you, that means she’s under us. And I don’t like outsiders bringing heat to my table.”

Murmurs of agreement rose. Boots stomped against the floor in restless rhythm.

Zuri’s heart pounded harder with every sound.

The platinum-haired woman from earlier leaned back in her booth, smirking. “Told you she wouldn’t last a week.”

Amani’s fist slammed down on the table in front of Zuri, making her jump. The glass rattled, whiskey spilling over the rim.

“She stays.” His voice was steel, sharp enough to cut the tension in half. “End of story.”

For a moment, no one breathed.

Then Scarface snorted, shaking his head. “This is a mistake, brother.”

Amani’s glare was enough to shut him up.

The sirens grew louder outside, flashing lights painting the walls red and blue. The bartender darted to the door, muttering about cops.

Amani bent low toward Zuri, his voice a rumble only she could hear. “Don’t say a word. Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to argue, but her voice caught in her throat. So she nodded, stiff and silent.

He straightened just as two uniformed cops pushed through the door, their flashlights cutting across the room. The smell of smoke clung to their jackets.

“What the hell happened out there?” one asked.

“Car fire,” Amani said smoothly, stepping between them and Zuri. “Looked like a fuel leak. Nobody hurt.”

The cop eyed him suspiciously. “Yours?”

“No.” Amani didn’t flinch. “Random car. No one we know.”

Zuri’s stomach twisted, but she kept her face blank, eyes on the floor.

The cops exchanged looks, then shrugged. “Lucky night. Could’ve been worse.”

They left as quickly as they came, and the tension in the bar snapped back like a whip.

When the doors shut, the voices rose again, louder now, angrier.

“You lied straight to cops for her?”

“You’re putting us all at risk.”

“She’s poison.”

Zuri’s hands shook harder around the glass. She wanted to vanish, to melt into the floor.

Then a voice cut through the noise, soft but sharp.

“What makes her so special?”

It was the platinum-haired woman again, her lips curved in a cruel smile. She rose from her seat, hips swaying as she walked closer, eyes locked on Zuri.

“Plenty of girls wander in here. Some stick around, some don’t. But none of them get claimed in front of the whole club.” She leaned on the table, close enough that Zuri could smell her perfume, sharp and sweet. “So what’s your trick, huh? What’d you do to make the Enforcer break his own rules?”

Zuri’s chest burned. Words rose up, bitter and hot, but before she could spit them out, Amani stepped between them.

“Back off, Lacey.”

The woman laughed, not backing away. “Touched a nerve, did I?”

Amani’s stare hardened. “Walk.”

For a moment, it looked like she might push further. Then she smirked and turned on her heel, hips swaying exaggeratedly as she sauntered back to her booth.

The whispers kept going, but quieter now, more dangerous.

Amani turned back to Zuri, his jaw tight. “You need to get out of sight. Upstairs.”

Zuri bristled. “I’m not hiding.”

“Not a request.”

Her fists clenched. “You don’t control me.”

His eyes met hers, dark and unyielding. “The second your car blew up, you stopped being just some girl passing through. You brought war to my doorstep. That makes you mine until I figure out who the hell wants you dead.”

Her breath caught. Anger and fear tangled in her chest, fighting for space.

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t his anything.

But the truth was, she was too shaken, too raw. And the way the brothers still glared, the way the women smirked—she knew she wouldn’t last ten minutes without him at her back.

So she said nothing.

He took her silence as agreement, his hand firm on her arm as he steered her toward the stairs at the back of the bar.

The stairwell was narrow, creaking under their boots. The upstairs hallway smelled of smoke, old wood, and leather. Amani led her to a small room, bed, dresser, nothing more and pushed the door open.

“You’ll stay here tonight.”

Zuri’s pulse hammered. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he said flatly. “Not anymore.”

She wanted to argue, but his eyes pinned her in place. She swallowed the words back down.

Amani stepped closer, filling the room with his presence. For a moment, she thought he might say something else, something softer.

But instead, his voice dropped low, dangerous.

“Tomorrow, the club’s gonna want answers. If you don’t give me the truth first, they’ll tear you apart.”

Zuri’s breath caught, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Because she knew he was right.

And she didn’t know how much longer she could keep the past buried.